


garden gnomes

by groovystars



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (like...aggressively korean keith idk how i managed that), (technically i guess), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, a lot...of long sentences, and oh yeah, fluff...?, i tried to give hunk the screentime he deserves in the show, ish, keith and shiro are kind of brothers, lapslock, oh wow that's an actual tag, the amelie au no-one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 23:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groovystars/pseuds/groovystars
Summary: keith works in a cafe, finds a lost notebook, falls in love and tries to develop as a person. and yes, pretty much in that order.(or- the amélie au that is both not needed and barely recognisable.)





	garden gnomes

**Author's Note:**

> to all the people who expected a kpop fic: sorry  
> to all who spot typos/plot holes: pls tell me in comments, it is nearly 2am and i am tired but i wanted to write and post something   
> also follow me on twitter (@cactusclaudia) it's a lot of kpop 
> 
> have fun

on october twenty-third, at 9:23 am on a crisp morning, a crow sets off from a tree in dalseong park, a boy tentatively tells his date that she has lipstick on her teeth, and yeun keith is born.

his parents agree on keith as a good inbetween for korean and english, and it’s the korean name his mother uses when she says goodbye and walks away six years later and so keith is six and his father thirty-one, and he remembers watching long black hair sway freely in the wind, fading into the distance. he thinks his father walked away that day too, maybe a year later or so. he’s not sure. he lost his father long before then. now he’s twenty two and around five twelfths and still in america, in a roaring city that feels no more his home than the bustling markets of daegu.

and today, may fourth, his life takes a different path.

the evening before may fourth, keith stares at the pipes with distrust. he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, hair tied up in a pathetic attempt at a bun- out of his face at least- and screwdriver stuck in his mouth as he watches water drop after water drop leak out of his pipes. 

‘fuck.’ he mutters, and he shuffles forward for a better look. he stays in this position for a while, endlessly staring at the single leaky pipe before he leans forward. there’s a knock on the door and keith jolts, hitting his head on the sink. 

this is where his life begins to divert. in one universe, he probably does not shout when he hits his head- he’s endured worse pain- and manages to successfully avoid the crushing pressures of societal interaction by pretending he was not at home. he fixes the sink. he goes to work the next day and the next until four months later, when fate crashes right back in, when there’s screaming from downstairs and he rushes in to break up the fight between a brother and sister, against a father. 

this is not that universe.

keith yelps a particularly coarse swear that he picked up from the military. hissing as he stands up clumsily, he makes his way to the door still rubbing his head, and it takes less than five seconds for him to walk to the door and pull it open with more force than probably necessary and-

‘hello, scary neighbour,’ says a voice, slightly below where keith is looking, ‘name’s pidge. katie. i’m not sure i care right now? they/them pronouns. i have been awake for over two days and i am being fuelled purely off coffee, but that's all i have in my house.’

keith blinks. pidge is batting their puppy eyes at him.

‘i have herbal tea.’ 

‘i’m coming in.’

pidge makes themselves at home easily. they don't seem to mind keith unceremoniously dumping the bright red tea in front of them. instead they pick up the cup reverently and cradle it between their hands. they smell it and their eyes widen behind thick-rimmed glasses.

‘it’s omija-cha.’ keith explains. 

‘what does that mean?’

‘five... flavours? it’s made from some kind of berry. helps calm me down.’

‘i need that.’ pidge says, and they sip. 

they don’t talk for a while, keith sitting at the table as pidge takes small sips from the steaming cup. keith resists the urge to get his knife out and just fiddle with it, instead drumming his fingers on the table in an unfollowable rhythm. he watches pidge from underneath his eyelashes.

they’re short, small in frame, maybe sixteen, maybe eighteen. long, long cascading hair. eyes that scream of intelligence, but are fogged over with fatigue. they look up and catch keith’s questioning gaze.

‘my brother stopped sending me letters.’ pidge says in answer. ‘and i don’t know why.’

they promptly begin sobbing, and keith stands up. the chair scrapes against the floor.

‘i’ll make more tea.’

and now it is may fourth. keith heads to work at ten am, with the knowledge that pidge’s brother matt had gone travelling over the summer with a friend and that he didn’t return from the holiday when he said he would and now he only sends letters to his father which pidge  _ hate hate hates _ because they’ve been close for so long so pidge hacked her brother matt’s phone but realised that he had changed his number and she wasn’t good enough at hacking to figure out his new phone so she had consumed all the caffeine in her apartment over two days learning how to. 

and keith had suggested that they leave their apartment for a while and pidge had jumped at the chance, and here they are, may fourth, walking side by side to the cafe.

they enter.

‘oh.’ pidge says. ‘you work  _ here _ .’

and before keith can even reply ‘yes’ in a confused voice, pidge greets hunk with a salute and keith nearly gets whiplash from how quickly he snaps his head between the two of them.

‘pidgey,’ hunk crows. 

keith shrugs. after all, it is a small world he thinks, and he heads to the back cupboard where he shucks off his red jacket and ties an apron around his waist. he goes out to see pidge animatedly chatting with hunk, evidently much happier, and keith listens. works out that the two go to the same university nearby. but different departments. ignores the fact that pidge could  _ not  _ be the same age as hunk, who’s twenty one and a genius. but there’s a lot he doesn’t know, keith thinks as he nods at coran who slides him a customer’s order. 

there’s a lot he doesn’t know.

 

♨

 

the cafe itself is charming. 

there is allura, the manager. she’s in charge of this shop, perhaps the sister location about ten blocks away (which sounds more impressive until you factor in the fact that there’s only three locations in total). she likes cats, chemistry, and chocolate lattes. 

here’s coran. the second in command, the one they see every day. he’s aggressively kiwi and proud, claims to be the best chef, and mentors keith almost as intensely as shiro. his small pleasure in life is watching allura grow up to be a confident businesswoman, as well as the telenovelas that his tv picks up. keith is waiting to introduce him to korean dramas with anticipation.  

hunk works part-time in the kitchen but he spends most of his time waiting at the till, reading or fiddling or correcting something, with regulars becoming more than accustomed with his beaming smile. his favourite thing is either coming up with an ingenious engineering plan, or getting a genuine compliment on his own recipe. 

and then there’s the man who sits across the bar. in his head, keith has named him ‘the man who sits across the bar’. he knows barely nothing about the man who sits across the bar, other than he’s only come by every other day for two weeks now, his eyes are a glorious blue, he’s friends with allura and hunk and pidge and coran (so therefore everyone keith can handle in this city), and he hates keith with a passion. the first time, he had been friendly with keith but after that, he had glared with a gaze that seemed almost comical in its anger. 

‘do i have something on my face?’ keith whispers to hunk one day, and hunk tuts.

‘no,’ hunk whispers back, ‘it  _ is  _ your face.’

keith doesn’t get it.

 

♨

 

‘shiro’, keith says on the phone one night. ‘you should try to get out more.’

there’s a soft chuckle, a fond one that keith huffs a little at because it’s the annoying big brother laugh, and shiro exhales heavily.

‘i watched a video on the youtube,’ shiro says, ‘a short story, i think. it was animated really well. someone wanted their father to go travelling so she stole his garden gnome and photoshopped postcards of it posing in foreign countries. the next thing, the father wanted to go out and explore the world and was happy. it made me think of you.’

‘no-one says ‘the youtube’, shiro. it’s just youtube.’

shiro snorts. 

‘i wish you had a garden gnome.’ keith says the next night.

 

♨

 

it’s a beautiful day. a perfect day. keith watches the man across the bar, who’s across the street go up to a woman with a cane and ask her something, before taking her arm and leading her across the street. 

it’s a whirl of a ride he takes her on- he seems to be giving her a non-stop commentary of the world around her, shifting her minutely in the direction he points at whilst still continuing onto whatever destination they’ve agreed on. she beams as he talks, and keith’s motions slowly stop as he watches the man across the bar with interest. 

his eyes are blue, his legs are long, his smile- oh god, his smile- his smile is bright and beautiful and he exudes charm just from keith squinting his eyes and watching him come their way, in a ridiculous bright blue jacket, before he takes her into the cafe with a bright grin and a carefree gaze and orders a chamomile tea to go. keith doesn’t remember making it, or taking the money from him- a five dollar bill, but the man leaves before he can get his change back. but the man comes back five minutes later, a leisurely jog back into the cafe, and shoots keith a proud grin. 

‘what’s your name,’ keith says bluntly. it’s not a question.

and the man across the bar grins and says, ‘lance.’

(‘would you like some help, madam? here, i’ll take your hand- and we’re off! we’re just crossing the road now, but i’ll take you to the subway station if that’s okay with you- it is? awesome. we just passed the florist, she’s moved into a new building, and now we’re passing a restaurant and ha- the s has fallen off, so it’s just called mile now. the husband of the bookshop owner is laughing- he’s got eyes that crinkle at the sides from laughing too much. we’re nearing this really really sweet cafe- my friends work there- well, my friend, and then some people that i’m scared slash in love with. well. one person. don’t tell anyone, but there’s a cute boy who works there. he doesn’t remember me, which is fine, but also horrible because it means i’m the only one who remembers our shitty- pardon my french- first meeting. and we’re passing the kind of creepy old fashioned barbershop! i’m sorry, i’m rambling. would you like some coffee, madam? or tea? my treat. tea? what kind? i’ll get it from that cafe. i swear, any drink that boy makes tastes amazing- or maybe i’m just biased. we’re going in now- hey. can i have one chamomile tea, take-away? take this. nah, keep the change, i’ll be back soon anyway. did you hear him? doesn’t he have a nice voice? i’m sorry madam, i don’t mean to gush about some new crush to you. ha, i don’t know if i’d call it young love, madam, he’s barely even recognised my existence. here, we’re at the station now, i’ll leave you here. have a good day, okay? see ya!’)

see. this is what keith does not remember. 

a week after landing in america and in this city, he had finished up at the gym late and missed his train to the city where shiro lived. keith watched the gates of the station close with a horrible finality, and spent the night in a photobooth. he was woken up by shouting in spanish at five am, peeked his head around the curtain to see a mess of limbs and bedhead lying on the floor- there was a wet floor sign somewhere, but maybe keith had kicked it over last night in anger. he had asked the man (and it was lance, but keith wouldn’t remember that) when the first train was. 

and then he caught the five forty five train.

 

♨

 

on may fifteenth, shiro tells keith that i’m going on holiday soon, i’m going to join my friend, you know, matt, we met in high school, the one with the floppy hair, he’s going to japan and i thought it would be good for me to go home, what do you think, keith.

‘it’s a good idea.’ keith says. thinks. ‘what changed your mind?’

there’s an exhale of air on the other end of the phone, more like a self-deprecating suppression of a chuckle.

‘he fucking- i have no idea how to explain this. he garden gnome-d me.’ shiro says.

 

♨

 

the man called lance is smirking as he sips from his coffee and keith looks at him blankly.

‘sorry sir,’ keith says dryly, ‘we don’t serve ‘the lotor’.’

‘ask hunk.’ lance says smugly. ‘he’ll serve it to me.’

‘if this is a prank, i’m going to kill you,’ keith says. ‘and i’ll charge you ten dollars.’

lance practically beams at keith when he comes back five minutes later, sliding across the greasiest looking grilled cheese and he chirps ‘thanks, sweetie’ as he picks it up with relish. keith wrinkles his nose as he watches a drop of oil drip from the sides.

‘what the fuck is this,’ keith says.

‘how did you make that question sound like  _ not  _ a question?’ lance replies with a tilted head, and any possible explanation is immediately delayed by the almost gargantuan bite lance takes out of the grilled cheese. the noise that leaves lance is bordering pornographic, and keith flushes immediately upon hearing it. 

‘young padawan,’ lance says, his mouth full of food, ‘i think you’ll find that ‘‘the lotor’ is a more than a grilled cheese. it is the solution to a combination of regret, a horrific almost-hookup and the worst hangover of my life.’

‘sounds like fun,’ keith says. ‘how much do i charge you for it?’

‘i’m not finished,’ lance says indigiantly and keith rolls his eyes but pulls up the chair opposite him. business is slower at around 11am, the time now, and keith finds that lance is like a breath of fresh air, something he’s glad he discovered after all the glaring. 

‘this grilled cheese almost puts my mama’s to shame- i say almost, because the situation surrounding its birth is a little embarrassing. and dude, the change i need to make to my skincare routine to compensate for this grease. i can only have ‘the lotor’ once every two months and wow, you’re staring at me a little intensely. this grilled cheese cannot be that interesting.’ 

keith leans forward in his chair and rests his face in his hands, huffing at the hair that falls into his eyes. 

‘i’ve never heard of any ingredient called lotor.’ keith says quietly, and lance snorts.

‘lotor was some dude in my gender studies class who had great hair but a tiny dick and dad issues. i had a date with him and it was going alright, but he gave me weird vibes so i bailed.’ 

‘oh. sounds shit.’ keith says.

‘yeah. well. i always had a thing for guys with good hair.’ lance says. he picks up his coffee and sips from it quickly, and keith just watches lance. he gestures to the corner of his mouth and lance flushes as he follows keith’s hint and wipes off the crumbs that dusted his face. lance opens his mouth, as if to talk more, and keith raises an eyebrow so lance closes his mouth and quickly takes another gargantuan bite. keith catches coran’s questioning gaze and immediately sits up then, pushes out his chair and hurriedly bows his head to lance in lieu of a ‘see you later’. 

‘he thinks he’s so smooth,’ hunk says later to keith as lance leaves. 

keith doesn’t get it.

 

♨

 

a few days later, there’s a notebook left on the far table, the one near the window, and keith picks it up whilst he rushes in for work, slightly late. he grabs it as he sprints to the backdoor and hunk whistles when he catches sight of keith’s bedhead.

‘coran’s put you in as on-time,’ hunk says loudly over the sound of sizzling bacon, ‘because it isn’t like you to be late- oh.’

sees keith’s red-rimmed eyes, pale complexion, tense shoulders. 

‘bad dream?’

‘yeah,’ keith says. he tests the weight of the notebook in his hand.

‘do you know who’s this is?’ keith asks, and hunk looks at the notebook with unfamiliarity in his eyes. it’s a rather pretty notebook. a sea blue, dark blue, kind of navy. it’s battered, with paper tucked in and secured with several pieces of string. it’s well-loved, well-used, and keith can’t help but prise it open once he’s on his lunch break.

there’s no name written on the inside, but there is a quickly scrawled number on the very first page of the book so keith sends a hasty text to it at the end of his break  _ (hey, i found this number written inside a notebook left at the altea cafe, is this yours?) _ and gets back to work. 

keith goes home at eight thirty-seven pm, eight minutes early because it’s a thursday and it’s not busy so he doesn’t even feel guilty. as he shrugs on his leather jacket to head outside- it’s still sunny somehow, and not at all humid so his hair won’t wildly curl at the nape of his neck- and shoves his hands into his pockets to fumble for his motorbike keys, his fingers brush against the leather cover of the notebook. the traffic is minimal, almost akin to a scene in a novel or a film where the protagonist needs to get home quickly, and he stares the last of his microwaveable rice morosely. he opens the notebook curiously as he lets his small pot of chicken soup boil, and gapes.

the notebook is brimming with beautiful drawings. 

there’s a variety of subjects, from the wood grains of the table to the open, laughing face of the customer that keith recognises as nyma, the circular tattoos that dot her brother’s arm, slav the grocer’s face captured mid-rant, an anime-esque depiction of coran’s moustache, but sentient and totally separate from coran’s face, the swirling depths of the sea and the grains and rocks of the beach and a beautiful sunset that screams red and purple and gold despite the blue ink, a beaming woman that exudes maternal love. they all breathe life in some way and keith scrutinises the confident pen lines. it’s a blue ink that matches the cover of the notebook and keith can’t help but smile at the similarity. a few pages later, and keith raises an eyebrow because he recognises his mullet- there’s special attention drawn to the ends of his hairs which errantly curl against his wishes. keith thinks of his father and his curly-haired aunt, and feels only a slight twinge (an improvement to the blow that that thought would have been). the artist even managed to catch keith’s gloved hands mid-motion and keith raises an eyebrow because they’re detailed, capturing the boniness of his fingers almost perfectly. the artist doesn’t quite capture the hints of scarring that poke through the window on the back of his hand though, and keith finds it a relief. he’s past it now, thinks he’s over it, but he can’t help but think that maybe they would destroy the beauty of the drawings. 

he notices he’s made his way through almost half the book, so he checks himself and doesn’t go any further because  _ this is someone’s property, keith, don’t be an idiot _ . instead, he flips back to the double page dedicated to the beach, and stares at the detail of the froth, the ripples and then swears loudly when he smells burning from the stove. 

 

and he scowls when he wakes up the next morning, checks his phone and sees that the text he sent to the owner of the notebook has been delivered, read, and ignored. 

 

♨

 

weeks pass. things change.

lance and keith talk more, for once. lance seems to know when the cafe isn’t busy, so he manages to draw keith into a conversation almost every day of varying lengths. one day, they talk for twenty minutes about films they had and hadn’t seen, and lance perks up at the long list of korean movies keith recommends. the next day, they barely talk because of an unexpected lunch break rush, but lance manages to tell keith that his eyes are a cool colour and keith snaps back ‘your eyes are better’ before setting down the suited businessman’s black coffee gently. 

keith also checks his phone more regularly, still waiting for the artist to respond to his text. he gets teased a lot more, with coran often wiggling his eyebrows in a terrifyingly fluid wave and saying ‘i remember when i had a hot date’ loudly. the first time it happened, lance had fumbled his (free) croissant out of his hands onto the floor. keith had mumbled about coran making things up halfway through his warning to lance, who had immediately lit up. 

the specials of the cafe change every two or three days, and they go from freshly baked pastries and warm brownies to slices of cheesecakes and key lime pies and small sundaes. hunk barely leaves the kitchen, and keith knows better than to distract hunk when he bakes. ‘it’s good that i work here,’ hunk says often, ‘because i’m being paid to stress-bake.’ 

 

one thing that doesn’t change is that allura always comes in on tuesdays at three thirty pm sharp, and today is no exception. 

her heels click against the floor and coran gleefully greets her with outstretched arms as she sets her bag on the bar and returns his hug as she settles into a barstool. keith waves at allura as he ducks outside.

‘so what’s happening,’ allura says to coran. she tosses her hair over her shoulder expertly and fishes out a pen and notepad whilst coran slides a croissant to her. hunk shouts his greeting to allura from the kitchen, reading his textbook, and allura chooses to ignores pidge, who’s definitely not a cafe employee but is definitely sitting in the kitchen next to hunk and commenting loudly on how they would rewrite the university program. 

‘our iced drinks are getting more popular,’ coran comments, ‘and our baked goods are also selling out rather quickly.’

‘sales are going up, then?’ allura summarises.

‘oh, yes. i’ve got the numbers in the back, of course.’ 

‘so that’s the business over. now,’ and allura unbuttons her blazer, tugs at her tie and leans forward with a grin, ‘give me the gossip.’

‘well, princess,’ coran says, fiddling with his moustache, ‘i do believe keith and lance are now talking to each other.’

‘you say talking, i say arguing,’ hunk says loudly. 

‘bickering,’ pidge corrects. ‘they bicker like they’ve been married fifteen years or more. it’s been three weeks since they’ve started talking, how the  _ heck _ are they already married?!’

allura grins around her coffee. 

‘where is keith though?’ allura muses. ‘i don’t pay him to slack off.’

‘he’s out back,’ coran says. ‘said he had to make a call.’

‘aw,’ hunk says, ‘he’s socialising.’

the sun shines and the flowers bloom and they hear keith screaming in the alleyway.

(‘this is palace video, king of porn.’

‘oh,’ keith says. ‘is there anyone who’s lost their blue notebook there?’  

‘blue?’

‘yeah, blue.’

‘there could be. are you of age?’

‘yeah? why?’

‘shaved?’

‘what?’

‘you sound young, kid, and i can’t sell hairy twink easily. clients prefer a hairless creampie-’

‘oh god, what the fuck, no, i just want to talk to the person with the blue-?’

‘don’t waste my time, man. i’m just trying to run a business here.’ 

click.  _ beep.  _ keith screams.)

 

♨

hunk takes pictures of lance. he doesn’t normally stare at his best friend/room-mate, but lance doesn’t even notice as hunk (very conspicuously) snaps picture after picture, even using snapchat to zoom in on lance’s gaping mouth. he smirks as he captions it ‘keith is angrily putting his hair into a ponytail’, saves it, and sends it to pidge. 

‘is he wearing a sleeveless t-shirt’, pidge sends back with a selfie of her head propped up by her hand. 

‘and the gloves’ hunk types, grinning at his perfect video of lance staring at keith with love-struck eyes, only to look away and flush when keith walks into shot and comments something to lance. hunk saves it mindlessly and is about to send it to pidge when he notes the fond look in keith’s eyes as he talks to lance.

‘interesting,’ hunk murmurs to himself and he sends it to pidge immediately.

 

♨

 

keith has the habit of carrying the notebook around with him so he takes it to work and leaves it on the countertop in the hopes that someone would come and claim it. he’s tracing his fingers over the front page on his break when coran comes over. 

‘try a seven, there, instead of the one.’ he says, looking over keith’s shoulder at the scrawl of the phone number that keith scowls at. keith tries it. he gets a reply three minutes later.

 

(14:32)  _ hey, i found this number written inside a notebook left at the altea cafe, is this yours? _

(14:35) whoa totally thought i lost that

(14:35) took a while for u to text me lol

(14:36) did u just find it

(15:21)  _ no  _

(15:27) dude you suck at texting back 

(15:28) what do you mean no

(15:59)  _ couldn’t read your handwriting so i accidentally contacted ‘palace video’ _

(16:02) jfoeafu the PORN place ??????

(16:03)  _ yes _

 

and life continues to carry on. may finally turns into june and pidge storms into the cafe and crows, calling the attention of everyone in the cafe.

‘i have  _ done it, _ ’ pidge calls. ‘i have hacked matt’s new phone!’

‘ha,’ hunk laughs loudly. fakely. ‘wow, that’s really funny, katie, announcing illegal activities is hilarious. please don’t arrest us.’

‘katie?’ keith asks, and pidge shrugs.

‘what, did you think pidge was my real name? but i don’t care right now though, because guess what i found out,’ pidge says cheerily. they’re smiling much easier now, so keith guesses good news.

‘matt has a  _ boyfriend _ .’ 

‘ooh,’ hunk says, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘are you sure though? matt always says he’s married to science.’

‘so am i, hunk,’ pidge says flippantly, ‘but he was gonna come home during the summer, and so was i, so we’d both return to mom and dad together, but he’s going to  _ tokyo  _ instead with his ‘friend’, so i think it’s safe to say that he’s dating someone.’

‘oh,’ and hunk purses his lips, ‘but that doesn’t mean matt’s dating them. tokyo is like, a hub for science and tech. it’s more likely that matt’s going right up that avenue than anyone else’s, if you catch my drift.’

he snickers to himself at the innuendo whilst pidge gags. 

‘fuck you hunk,’ pidge says, ‘but also i managed to read their texts. between matt and this guy. they’re too soppy and emotional and he makes matt want to use more than two emojis unironically. they have to be dating.’

hunk turns to keith, gestures for keith to say something.

‘well,’ keith says. ‘tokyo is nice.’

they wait.

‘i mean,’ keith adds after a second, ‘i’ve been there a few times. and my brother is japanese. he’s going to tokyo this summer too.’

‘whoa,’ pidge says. ‘backstory. an actually stellar addition to the conversation.’

‘what’s your brother called?’ hunk asks. 

‘takashi shirogane,’ keith says. ‘or shiro, he prefers shiro. and i’m. kind of adopted, so we don’t have the same sur-’

‘SHIT,’ pidge says. ‘YOUR BROTHER IS DATING MY BROTHER.’ 

 

(18:34)  _ と呼んでもいいですか？ _

(18:47) idk if google translate is correct

(18:48) but it’s a bit weird if you call me 

(18:49) so no lo hagas, buddy

(18:49) seeing as we haven’t talked in five days

(18:50)  _ fuck sorry wrong number _

 

(‘nii-san,’ keith says, and his mouth trips over the rusty japanese that’s unfamiliar to his mouth, ‘nii-san, are you dating your garden gnome guy?’

‘not yet.’ shiro chuckles awkwardly. ‘soon, though. i think we’re working our way towards him asking me out.’

‘he’s taking you home though. is he meeting your mother and father?’

‘oh,’ shiro says, enlightened, ‘oh, he is.

‘...’

‘...’

‘...’

‘i should talk with him.’   

‘okay. when you do, tell me.’)

 

♨

 

(20:12)  _ what’s your name _

(20:13) rude

(20:13) you could be anyone

(20:13) im not telling you my name

(20:14)  _ k _

(20:14) ouch ….. harsh

(20:15)  _ you’re really good at drawing by the way _

(20:16) WHA T HEUFCK U LOKE D INSID E??

(20:18)  _ only half of it  _

(20:18)  _ sorry i only remembered it was invading your privacy until the halfway point _

(20:20)  _ i liked your ocean drawings  _

(20:20)  _ they look really good _

(20:21) lmao thanks ??? but pls dont look aany further

(20:21)  _ haven’t even opened it since then _

(20:21)  _ do you study art?  _

(20:22) nah it’s a hobby

(20:22)  _ you’re amazing _

(20:27) thanks

♨

lance is on the phone when keith walks in, exactly five minutes earlier than needed for his shift. keith nods a greeting as he pulls on his apron and doesn’t react when lance doesn’t see him, instead watching the other man gesticulate wildly. 

‘table five,’ hunk says as he slides a plate over to keith.

and when that’s done, keith makes his way over to lance. he decides to not stand and wait for lance to finish his call, instead going to pull up the chair opposite lance. he scowls at lance’s feet (which were resting on the chair) until lance rolls his eyes and lifts them off. folds them somehow underneath the table- keith thinks  _ long legs  _ to himself as he watches lance grimace as he knocks his knee. he sits, slouches really, body angled to the side as he lets his legs fall open, and his left arm hangs over the back of the chair. 

and he just watches lance. 

he figures that’s a good way to annoy him- fix him with the gaze he learnt from the military, and blink as little as possible. this means he just stares in hidden fascination at how lance squirms under his gaze before sending a death glare and angling himself away from keih, fidgets as he talks in rapid fire spanish, watches him end the call in a sulk. if keith was weaker, he thinks to himself, he would find this cute. 

‘que bola, nosy,’ lance says. keith grins wolfishly. decides to fuck with lance a little more.

‘what would you like?’ he asks in korean, as peppy as he possibly can. lance raises an eyebrow and snorts, before he leans over the table with a wry grin. 

‘i have no idea what you said,’ he says smoothly.

keith repeats the question, in english, and lance leans back, switching off the flirtatious tone. he still looks a bit sulky, though, and keith resists the urge to giggle at him.

‘i don’t know. love. cuddles. somebody to love.’ 

‘this is a coffee shop.’

‘i could find love at a coffee shop.’

‘sure,’ keith says, standing up, ‘but you have to order first.’

he lets the chair scrape across the floor loudly, and whilst barely anyone else is in the cafe, lance flails at the harsh noise. keith ignores lance when he loudly exclaims ‘small black coffee, small black coffee!’ at keith, and relays an order of a ham and cheese sandwich to hunk, who makes it with a wry grin. 

keith gives lance the plate of food and a medium cup of black coffee and mutters ‘on the house’.

♨

 

(17:18) hello to the person who has my notebook 

(17:18) how’s ur day

(17:19) and also when can i have my notebook back

(21:54)  _ whenever _

(21:55)  _ it would be easier if you came to the altea again, if that’s not a problem.  _

(21:56)  _ just tell me when you’re free _

(21:59) u suck at replying :(

(22:32)  _ sorry _

(22:33)  _ just got back from the gym _

(22:34) u work out ?????

(22:36)  _ i fence _

(22: 42) w ha  th e shit

(23:01) ok ….. ok 

(23:02) this sunday at like 4:30 pm ?? it’s near closing time so we wouldn’t miss each other

(23:02)  _ cool _

(23:04)  _ see u at 16:30 then _

♨

 

on the wednesday, it’s slow again. lance had entered the coffeeshop about five minutes ago, later than expected because the sun looks like it wants to set despite it being too early for that, and his usual had been placed in front of him without him needing to order. keith’s about to walk away when lance stretches his legs out, kicks the chair opposite him out and cocks his head at keith with a raised eyebrow and a peek at tongue swiping at the corner of his mouth. 

‘tell me about yourself,’ lance says as keith sits down. keith immediately goes to stand back up, but lance grabs keith’s hands in a flurry.

‘what,’ keith says, ‘why.’

‘you have a talent for making questions into statements.’ lance says musingly. ‘and i’m suggesting this because i feel like i barely know you, dude. i wanna get to know my potential bestest bro better.’

‘you know me.’

‘i know you’re a great listener,’ lance says. ‘all you do is listen to me blabber on about my day and my failed relationships and my degree, and whilst it’s great, it must be a bit boring-’

‘-you’re very interesting, lance-’

‘-and i think it would be good for you to tell me about yourself.’

‘fine,’ keith says. ‘twenty questions. you start.’

the first few questions are ordinary. keith learns that lance is twenty one and his birthday is next month, he’s cuban born and raised, with a large family which he loves dearly, is studying marine biology but loves space, hates the ‘dogs or cats question’ because he loves both, and his favourite colour is blue. lance learns that keith is twenty-two, korean (‘city called daegu,’ keith says, ‘moved to the mountains with my dad later,’) has one brother, relatively fresh out the military (‘airforce’, keith adds, ‘i’m major yeun kii-seu’ and lance splutters in response) and unsure of his future, prefers dogs and likes the colour red. lance has a big family, and keith isn’t sure, and ‘family’s family, dude,’ lance had said, ‘how are you not sure?’

but now he asks ‘why do you wear those gloves?’ and keith purses his lips slightly.

‘two reasons,’ keith replies, and he slides one glove off. ‘i got burned while i was working when i was younger. it was pretty bad injury-wise, and i got granted some injury leave from the airforce, but i healed really well so i got back to work a bit quicker. it starts a lot of unwanted conversations when i don’t wear the gloves though, so i just keep them on.’

‘i’m really asking the emotional questions here,’ lance says wryly. ‘but i hope that’s okay, since this is literally the most i’ve heard you talk.’ 

his hands twitch forward and keith rests his hand on the middle of the table, silently allowing lance to touch. keith is right, lance thinks, because the burns did heal well- the skin is only slightly puckered, slightly more red than the rest of his skin, maybe some areas of hyperpigmentation but keith’s skin is fair enough so lance can’t quite tell. 

‘what’s the other reason?’

‘i forget to take them off.’ keith says. ‘these are my motorbike gloves. does that count as a question?’

‘only if you want it to,’ lance says, and he tentatively places his hand over keith’s. the warmth of lance’s hand makes keith shudder slightly and lance immediately recoils his hand. keith pouts to himself, jerks his head towards his hand and lance narrows his eyes as he rests his hand on keith’s. his thumb begins to absent-mindedly stroke at the skin between keith’s thumb and pointer finger and he doesn’t stop until keith has to wrench himself from his seat to serve the new customer that just walked in the door. 

‘we’ll carry this on another time,’ lance says quickly. 

‘wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ keith says softly, pushing in his chair as he plasters on a customer-friendly smile and turns to greet the woman. lance smiles to himself and takes a sip from his drink, grimacing at how cold it had turned.

 

♨

 

(19:21) hey 

(19:22) how do you know if someone likes you 

(19:22) might seem weird that i’m asking you but i’m a desperate man now

(23:58)  _ what did they do _

(00:02) god u suck at texting

(00:03) he remembers stupid things that i’ve said or my favourite foods to order and he gives me stuff with a really cute smile and he called me interesting today

(00:04) he told me about his family and himself in detail and he seemed comfortable telling me but it was kind of clear he had never told anyone else before

(00:04) we flirt a lot i think ?? we have conversations that feel so natural and we make each other laugh and i’ll try and hit on him but he seems too oblivious 

(00:05) i mean

(00:05) he could also just be ignoring me hitting on him and he secretly hates me

(00:05) but the thing is, he doesn’t smile a lot but he smiles at me 

(06:13)  _ i guess there’s good evidence that he likes you  _

(06:13)  _ i’m not sure, ask someone else _

(09:10) DUDE 

(09:11) 1) WAY TOO EARLY TO BE TEXTING ME 

(09:11) 2) TERRIBLE RESPONSE 

(10:34)  _ and? _

(10:37) AND 2) U DON’T SEEM TO HA V AN OPINION

(10:39) i’m revoking ur friendship card

(10:42)  _ we’re friends? _

(10:53) NOT ANY MORE

♨

 

hunk refuses to let his eye twitch.

‘nononononono,’ says the grocer. ‘no, that avocado isn’t ripe.’

‘i mean,’ hunk says patiently, ‘i just want to buy it. i can buy an unripe avocado.’

‘this avocado isn’t ripe, so you’re going to eat it and it’ll be disgusting, and you’ll complain and i’ll lose all my customers and go bankrupt and go back to living with sven and sven will hate me because sven will have to look after me again so please do not buy it. not today.’

‘that...really won’t happen.’

‘it could. this could be that reality.’

‘mr slav,’ hunk says, ‘mr slav, please just let me buy this avocado. i just need one. i’m trying out a new recipe soon, and i’m sure this will be alright by then.’ 

‘oh.’ slav says. ‘you should’ve said sooner, you’ve wasted twenty minutes here. twenty minutes you could’ve spent studying for those exams you’re always muttering about.’

hunk’s eye twitches. 

♨

 

(01:12) haha ok i was joking we are still friends please still come meet me on sunday

(01:12) also

(01:14) why did you like my ocean drawings 

(01:14) is it the line art

(01:24) or maybe the pen matches the subject? 

(01:26) [picture attached]

(13:42)  _ why did you send me of a confused looking dog  _

(13:45)  _ also it seemed realistic _

(13:46)  _ does the beach really look like that _

(14:02) it’s a meme

(14:02) and dude im gonna hype myself up and call it a realistic drawing

(14:03) how the fuck do you not know

(14:04) did u grow up in the desert or something

(18:25)  _ mountains _

(18:26)  _ no beach _

(18:28) ?????? r u real

(22:13)  _ yeah _

♨

 

lance sidles up to the counter and leans on it, resting his face in his hands and keith shoots him an annoyed glare.

‘elbows off the counter or i’m not serving you.’ keith says and lance smirks.

‘what’ya gonna do,’ he teases, ‘give me a free sandwich? you’re not scary, keithy boy.’

‘what.’

‘i’m just saying! you give me a lot of free sandwiches, dude.’

‘you give me a lot of headaches.’

‘ooh, dirty talk,’ lance says, and he dramatically spins around, somehow balancing on his (absurdly pointy, keith thinks) elbows and placing one hand on his forehead, the epitome of a swooning maiden.

keith isn’t really sure how to reply, so he just silently punches in the small black coffee that he knows lance will order. 

‘you treat me, keith,’ lance says, still holding the ridiculous pose and keith smirks.

‘not today,’ he says. lance pouts at the curt answer and somehow spins back around to his original position, only this time leaning in closer to keith. 

he doesn’t do or say anything. he just gets closer than they’ve ever been, their faces maybe five inches apart, and he stares with his eyes narrowed, scanning keith’s face as if to glean some kind of information.

‘if this is your attempt at getting a free sandwich,’ keith says and his voice nearly cracks on the first word, ‘it’s not going very well.’

‘no,’ lance mutters. ‘it’s not, is it.’

and he stands up straight now.

‘to go,’ lance says with finality, handing over the change for the drink. keith nervously licks his lips as he waits for the receipt to print, and he ignores the warmth of lance’s hand as lance drops the coins into his palm. 

‘somewhere to be?’ keith asks. he might be trembling. he’s not sure.

‘hot date.’ lance says flatly. ‘see you tomorrow.’

♨

 

(15:03) hey 

(15:05) what’s your fav color

(15:14)  _ red _

(15:14)  _ i’m working _

(15:18) gotta put u down as something in my contacts, sorry

(15:20) i like blue btw

(15:24)  _ k _

(15:29) red, how the fuck do u reply faster when ur working than when ur not

coran sends keith home that same day. something about keith failing to manage his temper, perhaps true since keith does snap at a lot of customers that day. one customer asks to see the manager and keith nearly growls as coran repeats the same thing keith told her, only with a friendly smile and soothing words. 

coran takes keith aside when all the customers in the shop are gone, and keith sinks down the wall, his legs giving out. coran crouches to look keith in the eye.

‘go home.’ coran says. ‘go home, sleep. call shiro. take a break.’

‘i’m okay,’ keith argues, ‘ _ nothing _ has happened today, so i’m fine. maybe i just- maybe i just haven’t eaten in a while. i can go take a lunch break and come right back.’

‘nothing earth-shattering might have happened, but you’re still upset.’ coran says gently. ‘so go home and tell me if you’re able to pick up ulaz’s shift tomorrow instead. you know it’s his anniversary with thace.’

keith nods after a beat. he exhales, runs his hand through his hair and gets back on his two feet. he leaves not even ten minutes after that, with a grateful smile and a mumbled apology to coran that coran accepts easily. and the idea of heading home, sweet home, with a dead houseplant and the hum of the television to keep him company nearly makes him run back to the cafe and beg to work for the rest of the day, so he heads to the gym instead in the hopes of working off the sudden excess of anger he feels. 

(16:52)  _ i’m a terrible employee, that’s how _

  
  


keith’s mood only gets worse, and it gets to the point where he spends most of his time in the gym, endlessly fighting against instructor after instructor. pidge knocks on his door on the friday, right before keith opens his door.

‘no,’ pidge says, ‘not today. it’s a girl’s night in.’ 

keith looks at the bag full of ice-cream in one of pidge’s hands and the bag full of chinese takeaway in the other, drops his own bag of gym stuff and lets them in.

‘are you even legal,’ keith asks as pidge pulls out a bottle of vodka from somewhere and pidge winks, replies with ‘i don’t drink yet,’ and whilst it’s not an answer keith  _ should  _ accept, he takes the bottle out her hands gratefully. 

(20:34) ha i’m the terrible texter now but !

(20:34) i’m sure ur a great employee

(20:35) what do u do

(21:51)  _ ah HHa  _

(21:53)  _ i am t e rirbl waitor  _

(21:54)  _ w aitor? or ???  why si ajhta wron g??? it soudn s liek watior  _

(21:59) oh boy someone’s having a lit friday night

(22:13)  _ it’s a sAsd firday night _

(22:14)  _ i wa sognna use my sw or d and fite nasome people  _

(22:16)  _ bu Tt now i m am geitngn durnk  _

(22:18)  _ i  !!! am a teirbrle alcocoohol whale !!!!!!!!!!!!! _

(22:23)  _ i did n’t stuyd the BLADE too b a abd alocococol hwhale  _

(22:24) im screenshotting this

(22:27)  _ a ne gihteen ur dl is stopngin me fform dirinkg :( _

(22:29)  _ they sya ur a a good artist s!! btu ehy kep alghung so it sodsent seeeeem dsirous?? bUT i no ur a gr8 aritst so they odn tmatter !! sill y tiny per osn wiht aterrible aste  _

(22:42)  _ godnite u beautiful artist man _

(23:13) not even 11pm, u lightweight

(23:14) why r u showing them my drawings

(23:20) goodnight red

saturday is a struggle. hunk snickers at keith’s bedhead and dark circles and deliberately crashes around in the kitchen just to watch keith wince each time. pidge comes in at around lunchtime, drops off some painkillers and a bottle of water with a cackle. tells keith to say sorry to the person called blue in his contacts and leaves again. 

keith isn’t really sure where they went. he’s not sure sure what happens on that day, to be honest. but somehow he makes it to closing time, and he opens his phone as he sits on his motorbike for a while, not quite ready to get home.

blanches as he reads through his text messages with ‘blue’. he’s usually more embarrassing, so he’s not too mortified, but you know. he does still want to crawl into a hole and die.

(21:24)  _ sorry about that _

(21:24) _idk if u can tell, but i had too much to drink_

(21:36) what the fuck is an alcohol whale

(21:37) and why the fuck do u have a sword

(21:38)  _ a big drinker and i sword-fight _

(21:42) u fence AND u sword fight ???? what eu fkc ?? r u REAL ??

(21:45)  _ yes? _

(21:54)  _ also. sorry for showing my friend your drawings. i promised you i wouldn’t but i did _

(21:55) s ok u were drunk

(21:57)  _ shut up im trying to tell you i’ll buy you a coffee tomorrow _

(22:00) o…..k…..

(22:01)  _ to properly apologise, i’ll buy you a coffee tomorrow _

(22:04)  _ and a cake _

(22:09)  _ hello?  _

(22:11) oh so U dont like it when i dnt reply immedaitely ?? but u repl y hours later ??/

(22:12) wait no i take it back im sorry please buy me that cake and coffee im broke

(22:13) u can’t go back on ur word, im not even gonna bring my wallet

(22:16)  _ i never go back on my word _

(22:17) ok that was a v e r y cool statement

(22:21) ur a cool person, red

(22:22) u never go back on ur word, grew up in the mountains, u speak japanese and 

(22:22) u /study/ the blade

(22:28)  _ shut up _

(22:30) whilst i was drawing, u were studying the blade

(22:31)  _ i’ll block u _

(22:32) whilst i was on a date, u were studying the blade

(22:40) u ok dude

(22:41) r u…..studying the blade

(22:43)  _ everyone’s going on dates these days _

(22:45) awww buddy do u want to go on a date

(22:45)  _ im not sure _

(22:46) they’re overhyped tbh

(22:47) i had my date on…...thursday ?? with this really cool girl from my physics class. super pretty, super nice, super bubbly, super /boring/ jesus christ!! and she told me that i mumst be straight bc i was on a date with a girl like no jessica im still bi!!

(22:48) i had another one on friday ? my friend set me up on a date with someone called sven but he sounded exactly like the ‘yoohoo’ guy from frozen and i really couldn’t hack it 

(22:52) totally offended that guy when i started texting u back at the dinner table haha

(22:54) tl;dr dates suck

(22:55) but tomorrow will be fun !! 

(22:57)  _ i’ve never been on a date _

(23:00) :o

(23:01) it’s ok

(23:01) i’m only dating to get my mind off of that boy

(23:02) That Boy ™

(23:03)  _ oh how’s that going  _

(23:04)  ( ﾟ，_ゝ｀)

(23:05)  _ that’s rough, buddy _

(23:05) he definitely !1 doesn’t like me back

(23:06) i stared at him for like, a good ten seconds!! we were super close !!! he seemed scared the whole time so i gave up and i’ve started ignoring where he works

(23:07) ha he actually works at the altea

(23:08)  _ oh _

(23:09) he’s that grumpy guy at the till 

(23:10) weirdly purple eyes, gloves, god awful mullet?

(23:11) ha u kind of remind me of him ! just the personality though

(23:11)  _ i  _

(23:11)  _ i don’t know that cafe very well _

(23:14)  _ i’ve only been a few times _

(23:15)  _ last time i went, i found your notebook _

(23:16) i see

(23:17) u should go more

(23:18) my friend works in the kitchen and he’s amazing ! 

(23:20)  _ k  _

(23:20)  _ tell me why it’s good tomorrow _

(23:21)  _ i need to go to sleep now _

(23:22)  _ sorry _

(23:23)  _ see you there _

(23:23) ( ˘▽˘)っ♨

(23:24) see u tomorrow!! it’s on u haha

♨

 

‘keith,’ coran starts and keith whirls around.

‘i am not going home,’ keith says, his hair wild and his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep, ‘i have to close today.’

‘okay,’ coran says and he backs off a little bit, hands up in surrender. ‘that’s nice, keith. have you considered...self-care? a nice bath?’

‘i don’t have a bathtub.’

‘that doesn’t stop  _ me, _ ’ coran says. ‘i do love to just dive into bed, close my eyes and pretend it’s a bath as an alternative. of course, i could just go to alfor’s house and take a bath there but we’re currently in the midst of an argument. so. it would be a little odd. or possibly a great way to resolve the argument!’

‘that’s nice,’ keith says and he promptly drops his third cup. it’s one of the plastic ones, one for take-away drinks and coran exhales in thankfulness because the second cup keith had dropped was a lovely and ceramic. 

‘keith, please-’

‘coran,’ keith says. ‘coran, what do you do if someone confesses that they like you to you, but they don’t know it’s you, but you know it’s them.’

‘pardon?’

‘and what if. what if you didn’t know if you liked them back. what if you still don’t know if you like them. but you might. but you’ve never liked anyone before so you don’t know? and what if you can’t just pretend to not know because you’re a terrible actor because you only did production in your school theatre productions. what. if.’

‘keith, i think this is a very specific issue that you are having,’ coran says. ‘and i have no idea how to help.’  

(15:34) hi just realised

(15:35) i hav no idea what u look like 

(15:36) i’ll be dude in a green jacket

(15:37) and i’ve been told my eyes are very strikingly blue ;)

at four, coran practically forces keith away from the till. 

he sits by the toilet door for a while, thumbing at the cover of blue _ lancebluelance _ ’s notebook. someone comes by and clears their throat, and keith apologises as he moves out the way. he drops the notebook as he stands, and when he picks it up, it’s on an unfamiliar page. 

one with drawings of keith’s eyes, keith’s face, keith’s lips, keith’s profile. 

and now that he knows that this is lance’s work, keith wants to cry. he’s never felt this  before, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach of happiness and glee and fondness and fear and confusion and nerves. he’s not used to being adored, keith thinks, and he is incredibly likely to fuck something as precious as this up. 

the toilet flushes. keith’s eyes widen and he practically flees into the kitchen because he didn’t want to be the weirdo member of staff that just waits outside the toilet. 

hunk stares at him.

‘hunk,’ keith says. ‘hunk, do i like lance.’

‘that’s for you to realise?’ hunk replies questioningly. keith nods. sinks down the wall. 

‘just ignore me,’ he says. ‘i’m trying to force an epiphany.’ 

(16:02) what do u look like 

(16:02) just wondering so we can find each other :D

keith waits.

around five minutes have passed since the time he had suggested, so the sun is setting and the traffic outside is slowing. keith frowns as the minute hand clunks onto the next number, trembling under its own weight.

the door opens.

keith shoots up from where he’s crouched behind the counter and he winces as the sunlight frames the figure. and it really is him.

lance.

lance salutes lazily in greeting and that alone is enough to get keith shifting into attention. he tries to talk but his words get stuck in his throat as lance saunters to the counter.

‘hey,’ lance says quietly. seriously. ‘did anyone come in here like, ten, five minutes ago?’

keith shakes his head.  _ say something say something say something say something sa _

‘oh.’ lance says, a small huff.

‘do you want a coffee? while you wait?’

‘i didn’t bring my wallet,’ lance says, ‘and i don’t know if tabs work here-’

‘on the house.’ keith says hurriedly. ‘on me. i’ve got this, it’s fine. you should drink something while you. wait.’

lance _ helikesyouhelikesyoudoyoulikehim _ smiles and keith’s knees buckle slightly at how charming, unassuming, radiant his small smile is. but he holds himself up because keith yeun is stronger than he thinks, so he only lets his hands shake for one second whilst he picks up a mug for lance and prepares his usual order. when he slides it to lance, who’s sitting at the window, lance grabs keith’s wrist. holds it for a second. turns it over, his oh-so-blue eyes staring at pale skin, tracing the veins with his gaze and he clears his throat.

‘we never finished our game of twenty questions.’ he says quietly. keith nods.

and then.

‘is it you?’ lance asks. 

the question hangs in the air for a second, like the split second before water is spilled from a glass onto the floor, like the moment before keith opened an envelope to read that his enlistment was confirmed, and this is the moment before keith lies for the first time in his life.

he mutters a confused ‘i don’t know what you’re talking about, sorry’, an apologetic noise, and scurries back to his safe haven that’s far enough away for keith to see lance’s feet twitch before he sighs and places them on the chair opposite him. watches how lance drums his fingers on the table in a frantic pattern. watches how lance gives up ten minutes later.

misses the curious looks lance gives him as he pretends to clean glasses from behind the counter. misses lance texting with a raised eyebrow. 

and keith can’t help but miss lance when he walks out the door at four forty-seven pm.

♨

 

but you see,  _ this _ is what lance remembers.

he had woken up at ass o’clock to be on time to his sister’s graduation in a different city, and arrived way too early to the train station because he had calculated in traffic and waiting times, whilst forgetting that it was  _ five fucking am, no-one was awake.  _ and he had slipped in a puddle because he was sleepy and there was no sign warning him, and no-one was around, and it was more satisfying to swear in spanish anyway. and then the most beautiful boy- or person, lance thinks later on the train, probably the most beautiful person he’d ever seen in life, he was beyond being the most beautiful boy- had stuck his head out of the photobooth, irritated, hair all over the place and eyes like violets, and asked in a raspy voice, ‘when’s the first train?’ and lance’s voice had cracked when he replied. and when they were sitting next to each other- not next to each other, several chairs away, but it was still intimate enough since no-one else was there- lance was more awake and ready to flirt, so he bought two pastries and two coffees from a convenience store nearby and turned to the beautiful man and finger-gunned and said ‘hey, my name’s lance, what’s yours?’ and the man had replied snappishly, ‘how did you get toothpaste on your forehead?’ and lance was made horrifically aware that he had  _ not  _ washed his ill-fated attempt at getting rid of a lone spot off. so he had given up on the flirting, or any conversation in general, eaten both pastries for breakfast and had been miserable for the majority of veronica’s graduation.   

he remembers seeing the most beautiful boy again working at the cutest cafe literally two days later. he goes to support hunk in getting a part-time job, so he orders the most expensive bowl of pasta (which was only around five dollars for quite a big portion) and a small black coffee (to balance out the five dollar bowl of pasta) and nearly chokes on his saliva when he looks his cashier in the eyes to see the boy. 

‘is that it.’ the boy had said in an unfairly nice voice, and lance narrows his eyes as he nods, hands over the change. expects some kind of recognition, maybe, so he mumbles something in spanish, the same curse words that he had screamed less than forty-eight hours prior, and his nostrils flare at the lack of response. the most beautiful boy ignores his greeting the next day as well, replying to lance’s cheery ‘hi’ with a curt nod and a ‘what do you want.’ lance had never been more determined to hate a man.

he remembers mindlessly drawing in his notebook, his precious treasured notebook, drawing the ocean from memory, drawing the movement of various customers in the cafe. he does some sketches for some commissions he had tentatively offered on twitter and sends them off for approval. one day, he starts staring at the back of the most beautiful boy’s head and smiles at the errant hairs that curl at the nape of his neck. sketches them. maybe’s he’s screwed from then, since it only opens the floodgates. lance draws anything that the most beautiful boy does, from his gloved hands to his sharp jawline and tensed neck when he stares into the distance. he has a field day when hunk hands the boy a knife- maybe only bigger than a fruit knife- and the boy starts flipping and doing tricks with it. his pen flies across the page and he tries to ignore how the most beautiful boy in the world also seems dangerous and how it totally does not drive him away. 

he remembers the most beautiful boy asking him his name, and learning that his name was keith. maybe a bit unexpected. maybe not. lance wasn’t sure if he expected anything other than, ‘hi. i’m perfect.’ and that was his second chance, since keith, the most beautiful boy in the world, clearly did not remember lance’s horrific first meeting. 

he remembers amping up the charm whenever he talked to keith. flirting shamelessly, as well, telling keith that he liked boys with nice hair (and it being true, somehow, despite keith’s despair inducing mullet being...a mullet). he remembers thinking,  _ hello keith i am gay and want to touch your beautiful face please be telepathic  _ only for keith to snort at lance’s crumb-laden face.

he remembers losing his notebook. that sucked. he had gotten in early that day, earlier than usual, and he knew hunk wouldn’t be there. lance just liked the place. liked coran, and allura, and the other staff (although ulaz scared him a little). liked the easy conversation that came with coran, and the two had quickly delved into coran telling him stories about new zealand that sounded too dangerous and fantastical to be true. he had left his notebook once he ran off to class, realising he should’ve left ten minutes ago. remembers thinking, ‘well, that sucks’ but not being too upset about it until two days later, realising he could either buy a new notebook of similar quality and size, or buy groceries. 

he remembers how he had actually brought his stuff to study once, with his laptop and textbooks, two of his notebooks- the general one, and his study one with messy notes and carefully drawn diagrams of marine animals, his pencil case. he had studied for at least four hours non-stop, finishing his cup of coffee within ten minutes. he felt bad for just using the space, so he looked up, maybe to try to get a refill, when he saw keith heading over with another, larger cup of steaming coffee in his hand and gently set it on his table. muttered ‘don’t worry about it’. lance felt his shoulders relax at the action and he smiles gratefully, diving his head back into his notes. he left as late as possible that day, with keith just keeping the refills coming. he tried to tip keith a large amount that day, only for keith to ignore the change. he tried to hand the change to coran instead, but coran just gave it back to him, told him to save it for a rainy day. that’s when he remembers thinking ‘this is my cafe’. 

he remembers his first text from red. brusque. to the point. he laughed as he read it because he read it with keith’s voice. and the texts only sounded more like keith the more they texted, so lance couldn’t help attempting to flirt with them whenever the opportunity came up. 

he remembers the wednesday when they talked, talked about themselves and their families and their lives. he remembers keith’s earnest, simple ‘you’re very interesting, lance’, thinks that maybe that’s branded onto his heart. four words, and lance was ruined for all other people. remembers holding keith’s hand. remembers thinking maybe, maybe,  _ maybe _ they’re getting somewhere. maybe they’re going to stop dancing whatever dance they’re doing. 

he remembers keith’s eyes, wide and unblinking and beautiful and- and  _ scared _ . and lance had immediately backed off, tried to pretend his eyes didn’t flick down to keith’s as the other man nervously wet his bottom lip. tries to pretend he doesn’t feel like shit, for having scared the most beautiful boy in the world, for having attempted to come onto him and received absolutely no sign of enjoyment or welcoming. he should’ve just expected being spurned by the most beautiful boy in the world. 

he barely remembers the dates he went on. but he does remember katie texting him a mysterious smiley face around the same time red rambles on about whales.

and he thinks to himself, as he sits at home, thinks about how lost keith had looked when lance had asked ‘is it you?’ and how keith’s eyes screamed ‘yes’ when his mouth said no. thinks about his gut instinct, telling him to ask hunk for keith’s address, or keith’s number (although lance just knows he already has keith in his phone) or whether he has keith’s heart or not. he isn’t sure if he does. he thinks he does. he hopes he does.

he goes to see.

♨

 

‘keith,’ shiro says when keith picks up the phone, calling without prompting. ‘keith, what time is it for you? eight, right? have you eaten? i feel like i haven’t talked to you in ages-’

‘takashi,’ keith says and shiro quietens immediately, ‘takashi, how did you know you liked matt?’

‘i feel like all you do is ask me questions about my love life,’ shiro jokes. ‘what happened to the good old days of ‘patience yields focus’ and other mantras like that? i worked hard on those.’

keith snorts quietly and he can feel shiro smile to himself.

‘to answer your question,’ shiro says, and his voice goes gentle again. ‘he had driven me to the target nearby. i was looking at towels. he told me that if i got ten towels, i would have the foundations for a great nest for the service dog i’m going to be getting soon. and i knew i was in love.’

‘oh.’

‘was that too boring?’

‘a little bit. kind of perfect for you, though.’

‘thanks, keith. why did you ask?’

keith closes his eyes and he gets up off his couch with a grunt. ‘i’m scared. i- i’ve never felt like this before. i don’t even know what this  _ is, _ really. i’m not very good at people, and feelings, and lance just.  _ is. _ but i think he really likes me back, shiro. it’s just. i feel like he’s already sorted, secure, as a person, but i’m several feet behind him, and i don’t want to use him as a. a ledge. for me to grapple on and make myself better. everyone says relationships are about growing together, but i just don’t think we’re even comparable.’

‘but he likes you.’

‘yes.’

‘and you like him.’

‘yes.’

‘i think.’ shiro says carefully. ‘i think that if you let this opportunity slip away, then as time goes by, you’re only going to be making yourself more angry and isolated. you need an anchor. he wants to be it because he likes you. it’s simple.’

‘shiro.’ keith breathes. 

‘just. let yourself be happy, keith. go get him.’

keith hangs up, breathes in and races to the door, ready to run to the cafe to shake hunk down and ask him for lance’s address, when he pulls it open to see lance standing there already, hand hovering over the door.

‘keith,’ lance breathes when keith opens the door, stunned. ‘keith, you gotta be honest with me-’

‘twenty questions,’ keith interrupts, ‘can i kiss you?’

‘god, yes,’ lance says.

fireworks do not fly when their lips meet. keith’s lips are chapped from gnawing on them, and their noses bump into each other. but it feels warm and safe and secure and like coming home, and keith’s hand goes up to the collar of lance’s shirt, dragging him inside. 

‘close the door,’ keith says as they break apart, and lance nods, his hands instead resting on keith’s waist. 

he closes the door. 

♨

 

and now, today. today is a beautiful day. 9:23 am, a crisp morning where a plane sets off from san francisco to tokyo, a grandfather feeds his loyal cat a scrap of chicken from the fridge, and lance has his arms wrapped around keith as they fly through the streets of the city. a busker sings of love, and lance will repeat those three words in a few months, when they lie in bed together after keith skypes shiro and lance reads a text from hunk (‘you got this!!!! pidge says ‘just say the obvious idiot’). 

‘i watched a film yesterday,’ keith says on this beautiful day, in the cafe where it all started.

‘without me?’ lance asks with a pout and keith laughs.

‘there was a quote that really stuck with me, actually,’ keith says. and he rests his heado on his hand and looks lance in the eyes.

‘without you, today’s emotions would be the scurf of yesterday’s.’

and lance understands what keith is saying.  _ i am not quite in love with you, but i am falling. i will get there.  _ and lance swallows. nods. it doesn’t quite hide the grin spreading across his face. 

♨

 

(‘this is sweet,’ allura whispers to coran as they watch lance’s passionate gesticulating and keith’s lovesick gaze, ‘but i don’t pay keith to stare at his boyfriend.’)

 

 

 


End file.
